


Flying Home for Christmas

by itsamagicalplace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Dating, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Philinda AU Festive Challenge, Romance, airport, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When her flight home to see her daughter gets delayed by several hours, Melinda sets about mentally preparing herself for a whole lot of waiting. But the guy opposite keeps glancing at her, and before she knows it they’re sat together, discussing their lives over coffee and cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry to announce, that flight GH325 to New York, has been delayed by approximately three hours.” _

Melinda groaned internally, shaking her head at the announcement and watching as the screen before her altered the flight status from  _ “Wait in Lounge” _ to  _ “Delayed” _ . 

Just what she wanted. 

She wandered across the terminal building, passing through the constant surge of people bustling around to their respective gates, and sighed to herself as she sat down upon a worn blue chair. She placed her bag onto the seat next to her. 

This was probably exactly what she deserved. Her daughter had told her - multiple times - to book her flight for earlier in the week, to give herself plenty of time once she was home to relax, but Melinda had insisted it would be fine. She had left it until the last minute, booking herself onto one on the afternoon of December 23rd. 

She’d told Skye she needed to get her work finished before leaving, so she wouldn’t have to return after the Christmas break to an overwhelming pile of paperwork.

But as usual, her daughter had been right.

Melinda pulled her phone out of her bag, rezipping it beside her before dialling her daughter’s number, registering vaguely as somebody took the seat opposite her in the lounge. 

Other flight announcements were being relayed over the speaker system as she waited; don’t leave baggage unattended, don’t smoke in the terminal building, would a Mr Grant Ward please return to the security desks. 

Skye answered on the third ring.

“Hey Mom!”

Just hearing her daughter's voice made her smile, and Melinda was pretty sure she could hear Christmas songs playing in the background. 

“Hey Skye, bad news.”

“Please tell me you are actually coming home?”

“Of course.” Melinda rolled her eyes a little; she might have been a bit preoccupied lately, but she wasn’t going to miss spending Christmas with her daughter and son-in-law. “The flight is delayed.”

She could hear Skye groan on the other end of the line.

“How long by?”

“So far?” she replied, glancing over at the nearest screen. “Three hours.” 

Three what could be very long and painful hours too. It was a relatively small terminal building compared to others she’d been in, with only a coffee shop, a fast food restaurant, and a couple of shops - not very much to do whilst waiting around. Thank goodness she’d thrown her e-reader into her bag at the last minute. 

“That sucks!” 

“I know,” Melinda sighed, glancing around the departure hall to see if there was actually anything else she could do for the next few hours. Her eyes accidentally met the gaze of the man sat opposite her. 

He gave a small smile, before looking away.  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Skye replied. “One sec...” 

The line went quiet, and Melinda could hear the background tones of Skye talking to somebody. She guessed it was probably Antoine, and Melinda smiled as she imagined what they had probably been doing before she called. It was Christmas Eve Eve, so they were likely halfway through baking something filled with cinnamon, or curled up watching a festive movie together in front of a roaring fireplace. 

She knew Skye had already finished work for the holiday period, and Antoine, whilst on call from the hospital, had promised he would try to be there for as much time as he could manage. 

“Alright,” Skye continued, coming back to the phone. “Mom, Trip and I will come pick you up when you actually land.”

“I can get a taxi, Skye.” 

If this flight actually left when it was expected to, she wasn’t going to ask her daughter to drive out to the airport to collect her in the early hours of the morning, especially at six months pregnant; she should just stay in bed where it was warm.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Skye scolded however, and Melinda was once more reminded of how stubborn she was; like mother like daughter. “It’s Christmas Mom, it’ll be like double fare anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter -”

“Yes it does.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. 

“Fine, thank you Skye. I’ll let you know when we finally board.”

“Okay, love you Mom. Safe flight.”

“I love you too.”

Melinda hung up the phone, shaking her head, before sliding it into her jeans pocket. She glanced back around the hall to see if anything had changed within the last five minutes. 

Nothing.

Except… the guy opposite her was looking again, but as before, when they made eye contact, he glanced away once more.

 

\---

 

An hour later, and Melinda threw her e-reader into her bag with a sigh. She was two-thirds of the way through the crime thriller that was currently holding her interest, but the battery had gone flat - that was definitely one of the downsides to using it, instead of an actual book. Whilst yes, it was much more convenient, the fact she kept forgetting to plug the thing in actually made it worse in many ways.

If Skye were there, she would probably have one of those little portable charging devices with her; she was always up to date with the latest technology. But she wasn’t, so Melinda sat back in her seat.

So, two hours to go, with nothing really that interesting to do. And that was assuming the delay wasn’t increased.

“Are you alright?”

The voice travelling across from the seat opposite brought her out of her disgruntled thoughts, and Melinda found the guy she’d made eye-contact with before staring at her with a look of slight concern.

She nodded. “Yes, it’s just been a long day.”

“Delayed?”

She nodded again, taking in his appearance. He looked about her age, with thinning brown hair, and light blue eyes. He was dressed in a white button down shirt, crumpled slightly from travelling, and tucked into dark trousers.

“Three hours - two now.”

“That sucks,” he replied, smiling sympathetically. “Sorry.”

Melinda shrugged; there was nothing anyone could do about it. “What about you?”

“Been here three already, got at least another four to go.”

“Ouch” she winced, regretting her complaints about only a three hour wait.

“Yeah,” he laughed slightly. “Blame the snowstorm that decided to hit without warning.”

He gazed at her for a moment, almost as though he were mentally debating whether to say something, but he seemed to change his mind. He hesitated, before looking away again, returning to his tablet computer.

Melinda frowned. “What?”

He looked up again, shrugging a little with an abashed expression. “I was going to go and get a coffee from that café down there,” he gestured somewhere behind her. “And I was wondering if… if you would like one?”

She blinked. That she had not been expecting.

“I… no thank you.”

He looked slightly crestfallen, and she found herself wanting to reassure him it wasn’t that she didn’t want to socialise with him any more.

“I don’t like coffee.”

He brightened up a little. “I can get tea?” 

He had stood, and was smiling at her hopefully, hands shoved in his pockets, and for some reason she couldn’t comprehend - maybe she just didn’t want to spend the next few hours alone - Melinda found herself standing up too, picking up her bag, and nodding to him with a small smile.

“Tea would be great.”

“Earl Grey? Chamomile? Green?” he asked happily, as they began to walk towards the small coffee shop within the hall itself, the warm aroma of filter coffee and sugary cake drifting out towards them. 

“Green, please.”

Chamomile in particular had a habit of sending her to sleep, and the last thing she needed would be to miss her flight when it finally departed because she was napping on one of the chairs at the gate.

He nodded, and headed over to order, whilst she paused, before taking a seat at one of the small tables inside. 

“It’s Phil, by the way” he said a few minutes later as he sat back down opposite, placing a steaming mug of green tea onto the table for her, a rich creamy coffee in front of himself, and a plate with two danish pastries in between them. She looked at them questioningly, and he -  _ Phil -  _ simply shrugged, grinning slightly. “One each, it’s almost Christmas after all.”

That it was. A white fibre-optic tree stood in the corner of the café, a single silver star perched upon the top, and a sole strand of fairylights was draped across the top of the window. Melinda was pretty sure she could also make out the faint sound of Christmas songs being played through a crackling speaker system above them somewhere, but the flight announcements of the day were continuously interrupting the songs. 

“Thank you” she replied simply, picking up the mug and letting the heat warm her fingers. Despite being indoors, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable temperature, and she was thankful she had thought to travel with her jacket. 

“No problem,” he smiled at her.

He had a nice smile, she thought; it went well with his eyes. 

“So, where abouts are you heading?”

Melinda took a sip of her tea, half scalding her tongue in the process, and proceeded to blow cooler air into the mug, the surface of the drink rippling slightly. “New York; I’m going to stay with my daughter and son-in-law.”

Phil looked at her, his eyebrows raising slightly.

Melinda frowned. “What?”

“It’s just… you don’t look old enough to have a married daughter.” He shrugged his shoulders with an abashed smile, pulling a chunk out of one of the pastries before them to distract his hands with.

“I guess I should take that as a compliment” she laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear to stop it going into her tea.

“You should.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and she watched as the steam from her tea swirled between them.

“They’re expecting a baby in a few months too,” she added with a wry smile, waiting to see his reaction.

His eyes widened. “Okay, you definitely do not look old enough to be a grandmother!”

She took another drink of tea, hiding her smirk with the mug, and watched him chew thoughtfully. 

“It is a little strange” she admitted. “I was a young parent myself, so I don’t feel old enough yet to have a grandchild. Yet my daughter is having a baby.”

She stopped, wondering why she was rambling her life out to somebody who was essentially a stranger; he was listening intently, as though he were genuinely interested in what she was telling him, but she changed the subject anyway, never having been the most comfortable when it came to discussing herself and her life.

“What about you?”

He seemed to sense her desire to move on, so he bought her conversation change with ease. “I’m going back to Ohio, to visit my mother.”

“That should be nice.” 

It also reminded her she should call her own mother, once she had landed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, but Melinda got the feeling he wasn’t quite sure. “She’ll probably ask me again why I’m not married yet…”

“Oh. Are you engaged?” She realised at his words that she was kind of hoping he wasn’t. Which was ridiculous, because she hardly knew the man. But she couldn’t help wondering; this was easy, he was attractive, the conversation flowed… and she needed to get a grip.

“No,” he shook his head. “But my sister is eight years younger, but is already married with kids of her own, and I guess my mother just wants me to find somebody… she worries, you know?”

“Yes, I can understand that.”

Melinda sipped her tea absently, going back through her own memories. She remembered how her own mother had been so happy when Melinda had told her she was to marry; when it collapsed a few years later, she spent a long time filled with regret. But it had resulted in Skye, and she was the most important person in Melinda’s world, so on that front, she couldn’t regret a thing.

“Are you?” he asked, bringing her back into the present. “Married, I mean?”

Melinda couldn’t help but notice the faint trace of hope in his voice. She took a sip of tea before shaking her head.

“Not anymore.” 

“I’m sorry” he replied sincerely, realising what her words meant, before finishing the last of his coffee and returning the mug to the table. 

“Don’t be. It is what it is.”

She smiled at him, before taking a piece of the pastry left in front of her. The sweetness of the sugar encrusted top went well with the taste of tea, and she found herself sucking the granules from her fingertips once she’d finished.

“Would you like another?” Phil asked, indicating to her now empty cup.

She glanced down at it before meeting his eyes, seeing the smile lingering across his face.

“Yes please. But this time, I’m paying.”

 

\---

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are pleased to announce, that flight GH325 to New York, is now reading for boarding. Please make your way immediately to gate number 41.” _

Melinda looked up to Phil at the notice of her impending departure, finding that his smile had already faltered at the announcement. 

“That’s me” she said quietly, smiling softly at him but not moving. “I should head over to the gate.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” he rambled slightly, downing the last of his third coffee and placing the mug onto the table once more, before glancing back over to her. 

He looked apprehensive, and she knew exactly what he was about to ask. 

“Can… could I get your number?” he questioned, running a hand back through his hair. “And maybe we could meet up again sometime, maybe if we’re ever in the same state again or something?”

Melinda smiled. “I’d like that.”

She was surprised at how much she actually would like that; Skye was always telling her to take a chance and just go for things, and now here she was, impulsively drinking coffee with a guy she’d only just met, and planning to meet him again. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Melinda nodded, before reaching out and picking up his phone from the table in front of him. It wasn’t passworded, so she simply opened his contact list and typed her details, wondering briefly whether to add a surname or just to leave it as “Melinda”. 

She told herself to just do it, before typing “May” after her name. He didn’t seem like a creepy stalker; it’d be okay.

She handed his phone back and grabbed her bag from the floor beside her chair, standing as he did, before they awkwardly stood facing each other.

“Well, thanks for…. this” Melinda said quietly, gesturing at their table and between them both. “Not how I thought I’d spend the delay, but -”

“But it was fun” he grinned, and she was once more reminded how much she was liking that smile.

“Yeah it was.” 

Phil picked up his own bag from the floor, swinging it over his shoulder. “Can I walk you to your gate?”

She nodded in response, and the two headed across the terminal, pausing to check on whether the delay to his own flight had been reduced or not. It hadn’t, but Phil didn’t seem to mind as much as he had done a few hours earlier.

“So, I’ll give you a call, sometime” Phil said, as they reached her gate and he turned to face her. “It might be a few weeks…”

“I’d like that,” she replied, glancing up at him. She smiled, thinking about how wonderful this Christmas would be; the last before her new granddaughter arrived. 

“You have a beautiful smile” he murmured quietly, watching as she looked back up to him, eyes widening slightly, before she made a split-second decision.

Pausing momentarily, Melinda leaned up onto her tiptoes, and placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, letting her lips linger for a moment against the scruff of his unshaven face.

“Thank you, Phil” she replied, before turning away, and disappearing through the gate, and onto her plane.

He watched her leave, before heading back through the terminal, still feeling the trace of her lips against his skin. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wish to keep this as a standalone, you can stop reading here :)
> 
> If you'd like more in the universe however then please feel free to read on!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been over two years since chapter 1 was posted, and I originally intended it to be a standalone. But this little verse is running round my head...  
> Thank you elle_you_oh for all your help (and persuasion skills) ;)

Melinda leaned over into the crib before her, reaching her arms out and gently lifting the babbling baby who was grabbing for her hair. She brought her close, pressing a kiss into her dark curls, and another onto her cheek.

Each time she saw her granddaughter she could hardly believe how much she had grown compared to the last; the weeks were flying by, and before any of them had even realised or noticed where the year was going, it was almost Fall. 

Elise had just turned six months old. 

To Melinda’s surprise, her granddaughter had quickly become her entire world. It had been right from the moment Melinda had laid eyes on her in the hospital, as Antoine held her in a bundled yellow blanket patterned with tiny ducks; she peered up at her grandmother with curious, soft brown eyes, and Melinda May had fallen in love.

It reminded her of when she’d first laid eyes on Skye, all those years ago. She’d been quite a young mother compared to others her age, terrified that having a baby would be the end of her career. However, the moment she’d been handed her daughter, every negative emotion washed away with her tears of joy and exhaustion. 

Elise had been born two weeks earlier than expected, but after a check-over by the doctors she’d been allowed home only a few days later. Skye had taken to the role of mother instantly, cooing over her daughter and filling her life with all the love she could ever need.

Antoine had taken all the paternal leave from the hospital he was able, and helped out as much as he could do so in the short time-period he was free to stay with her.

When Elise had been only four weeks old, and with Skye’s blessing, Melinda had transferred to a job in New York so she could be closer to her family. She sold up most of her life, and bought a small apartment only a train journey away from her daughter.

Skye had appreciated it more than she’d let on; with Antoine working shifts as a trauma doctor, and having been given only a few weeks leave, he was unable to always be at home helping care for their daughter. So during those nights, Melinda would often come round to their apartment, allowing Skye to catch up on her much needed sleep whilst she stared in wonder at the perfect little human they’d managed to create.

She still held a tiny bit of hope that Elise’s first proper word would be along the lines of her name. 

Melinda held the squirming baby in her arms, before balancing her against one hip, and crossing the nursery towards the pale wooden dresser on the other side of the room, her feet scrunching in the thick fluffy rug that took up most of the floor space.

They were off for an afternoon at the park, all four of them, and despite Melinda feeling occasionally like she should leave days like this just to their little threesome, Antoine had insisted she come with them.

It was nice, that they wanted her there. 

She pulled open one of the drawers, rummaging around through the multitude of baby garments that filled the entire cabinet - she’d forgotten how much stuff a kid needed - for a pair of little socks to go under her booties. After a moment she located some that matched, and tugged them out of the drawer, handing them to Elise to hold. Instead however Elise shoved one in her mouth to chew, which is what she tended to enjoy doing currently as she was teething. 

As she contentedly played with the socks, Melinda hunted for some little blue leggings she knew would match the purple jumper already waiting on the changing table. She found them in the third drawer down.

After all items for the outfit were collected, Melinda wandered back across the room, ducking underneath a mobile of glow-in-the-dark stars that hung from the ceiling, and placed Elise onto her changing table, with the aim of getting her out of her onesie and into the clothing. 

She tried to ply the socks out of her grip to put them on her feet, but Elise started to wail, thrashing her arms about and kicking her little feet into the air. 

“Hush little one,” Melinda murmured, tickling her tummy gently and handing her the sock back. “Don’t cry.”

She soon settled back down, and Melinda retrieved a different pair from the drawer. She slid them onto the wriggling feet before her, stroking the soft skin of her little leg. 

She was so perfect, it almost made her want another of her own.

Almost, but not quite.

At least with being a grandparent, she could hand the baby back at the end of the day.

That was nice.

Here there was constant noise, be it the television, or the baby, or Skye and Antoine chattering to each other and the baby. She enjoyed the busy atmosphere, the feeling of homeliness that it brought, but she did enjoy returning to her own place in the evenings.

Ten minutes and a second averted tantrum later, Elise was changed and ready to go.

Apparently the spare sock was coming with her.

 

\---

 

Melinda sipped from her bottle of water, keeping one foot on the pushchair to ensure it didn’t go walkabout, watching with a smile as Antoine pushed Elise on the toddler swings. Skye had her camera out and was filming as her daughter travelled back and forth, giggling away at the varying facial expressions Skye was pulling. 

They were a perfect little trio. Melinda was sure it wouldn’t be long before Skye announced they were expecting a second child; they spoke of nothing but hope that one day Elise would have a little brother or sister to play with, and she could see them adapting their little trio quite easily to accommodate an additional child.

She glanced around the rest of the park. It was a chilly September afternoon, overcast but not currently raining, and she was quite glad she had chosen to wear her coat rather than just a jacket.

She pulled it closer around herself.

There were families throughout the area, playing in the park with their children, or grandchildren. Pushing them on the swings, catching them at the bottom of the slide, cleaning grazed hands and kissing bruised knees. 

Friends ran about chasing each other, and people ran about chasing their kids. 

Some were walking dogs on leads, keeping to the footpaths before they reached the field at the top end of the recreation ground, others were out for just an afternoon stroll. 

Nearby she could see a little picnic area with a couple of wooden benches, and despite the Fall weather, a small snack van, manned by a jolly gentleman serving apple-cider popsicles, creamy vanilla ice-cream cones, and steaming coffee in polystyrene cups.

It was sort of peaceful, despite the noise coming from the play area.

She vaguely registered as somebody walked past her, before stopping, and turning back around again.

“Melinda?”

She paused before realising she recognised that voice. Glancing upwards almost in disbelief, she was met with the face of Phil - airport Phil - Phil who she hadn’t seen since that day in December nine months earlier.

He still had the same blue eyes.

Despite herself, and the conflicted emotions she suddenly felt, she smiled in greeting.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he took another step closer, his hands holding one of the polystyrene cups from the van. She could see the steam rising and condensing in the cool afternoon air. “I just walked past and had to do a double take.”

They both looked at each other, neither too sure how to proceed after their previous goodbye and then conversation in between. She made a decision, and gestured to the empty bench beside her. He sat, leaving a small gap between the two of them.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” he confessed with a slight laugh, before sighing and leaning against the back of the seat. 

“Likewise,” she agreed, wondering what kind of coincidences had aligned for them to end up in the same park, in the same state, on the same day. “How come you’re in New York?” she asked, knowing from their brief texting conversation earlier that year that he actually lived in Wisconsin.

He smiled, nodding towards the playground. “I’m staying here with my sister, Maria and her family, just for a fortnight. She’s over there,” he added, pointing across the park with his free hand, passing the cup to the other. “Near the slide.”

Melinda looked to where he was gesturing, noticing a tall woman with dark hair, who was swinging a kid who looked about six or seven around in her arms. Another was playing on a climbing frame next to her.

“Your nephew and niece?” she asked, grimacing slightly as one of the kids fell off the monkey bars, landing in the bark chippings below with a laugh.

“Yeah. Leo is five, and Jemma is seven.”

She nodded, watching them play for a while, before turning her gaze back to Skye and Antoine, who had switched roles pushing Elise on the swing. 

“Are you visiting your daughter?” he asked her, clearly remembering the last time they had met she’d been flying to NYC to spend Christmas with them.

“I moved out here several months ago,” she explained, nodding in gesture over to the swings. 

Phil followed her gaze.

“Is that your daughter?”

“Yes, that’s Skye, and her husband Antoine.”

She smiled again, watching them enjoying their afternoon together. It was times like this she was happy to stay away, let them just be together as a trio. 

Phil observed them too for a moment before registering the baby on the swing, and the pram beside Melinda. His eyes widened. “So that means… the baby, she’s your granddaughter? I didn’t think... well, belated congratulations!”

He was babbling a little, and seemed slightly nervous. She knew why - she was a little apprehensive herself. He finished his coffee, placing the cup onto the floor beside his feet, and took a deep breath, turning towards her more. His left knee came to rest against her leg, his hands were clasped in his lap.

“Melinda I want to apologise,” he told her sincerely. “I was going to ask if you would be in the city when we originally booked the flights, just to see if you wanted to meet up for a coffee or something, but -”

She stopped him mid-sentence, holding a hand up halfway.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “No, it isn’t. I tried to get in touch but…”

“You stopped replying to my messages,” she shrugged, letting her hand fall back to her lap. “So I just assumed-”

“I lost my phone and all my contacts,” he replied quickly, glancing at her with apologetic eyes. 

“Oh?” 

It sounded like a poor excuse until -

“There was an incident,” he continued, looking away from her and into the distance. “I was in hospital for a while...”

He trailed off, and Melinda could hear the quaver in his voice. She could tell now he wasn’t lying to her; when they’d first met he had seemed like a genuine guy, and she’d known deep down there must have been a reason he’d stopped answering her messages. But she wasn’t one to beg, and so when his replies had halted and her messages stopped receiving read-receipts, she hadn’t wanted to seem desperate.

“I’m sorry,” she told him genuinely, concern in her words, wondering what happened. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright now,” he smiled, but glancing to the side she could see there was still some trauma behind his eyes. “But open heart surgery is no picnic.”

She blinked, widening her eyes, shocked at how serious his condition had been. She hadn’t been expecting anything on that scale. And to her surprise, it hurt. They barely knew each other, but she felt a pang of sorrow in her heart for what he’d been through. 

Phil pulled his coat self-consciously around himself, zipping it up to the top, and she couldn’t help but notice the tip of a scar poking out of the top of his shirt. She hadn’t seen that last time.

“Wow.”

He laughed a little, as though to diffuse the solemn mood, rubbing his hands together in the chilly air. “Yeah, that sums it up a bit.”

They sat in the quiet for a moment, both watching their respective families.

“I don’t normally tell people that,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Only family really know...”

Melinda looked at him for a moment, but he was deep in thought, so she turned away again. 

A gust of wind whipped past, and she reached up to tuck her hair back under her hat.

“How long do you have left in the city?” she asked after a while, watching as Skye picked up Elise and pressed a kiss to her nose, Antoine now seemingly in charge of taking photographs of the pair with the camera.

“Six days.”

She nodded, turmoil running through her usually calm mind. She didn’t believe in fate, but something had brought them back together for this day. And he was only here for another six days before leaving again.

When they’d left off last time, they’d promised to keep in touch, the suggestion of meeting up for coffee was there, and she’d even kissed him on the cheek. It had been almost out of character for her, but it had felt right there and then.

Melinda looked at him again, with his blue eyes and thinning hair, and his chunky coat pulled tight. He was nice; he was very nice, in fact, and she found herself thinking similar thoughts to the first time - she would like to see him again. The problem was, he had a flight to catch in six days time - why couldn’t they be in the same state for more than a few days?

The other thought that was also running simultaneously, was that what if something happened to him again? What if he went back into hospital? She realised that - despite not really knowing him that well - Melinda cared, and she wanted a chance to get to know him. 

“Can I get you another one of those?” he asked her, rousing her from her thoughts, and gesturing to the empty water bottle on the bench beside her. 

She looked at the bottle, and then up at him, their gazes meeting. She was suddenly very aware of how close they were actually sitting, legs pressed together side by side. He licked his lips, almost absently, and she watched his tongue.

It was like deja vu, only this time, they were in a chilly park instead of an airport terminal. This time, however, she was determined not to just walk away afterwards.

“How about something stronger?” she asked boldly, her stomach twisting slightly with what she suddenly realised were butterflies. 

He blinked, seeming a little taken aback by her suggestion. “You mean…?”

“There’s some decent bars nearby,” she shrugged, trying to act casual - she hadn’t asked anybody out in years, and it was oddly nerve-wracking. “How about one evening before you go?”

He grinned at her, nodding his head in agreement. “Sounds good to me… how’s Friday night?”

“Friday would be great.” 

Melinda smiled, meeting his gaze. They looked at each other for a moment, both staring into the others’ eyes. 

“In that case,” he replied, watching her carefully, pondering his choice of words. “It’s a date?”

It came out almost like a question, but she smiled back, nodding slowly. 

“It’s a date.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Elle_you_oh for all yo help :D

Phil smoothed down his navy blue tie for what felt like the umpteenth time; the fabric was cool under his hands, and he frowned at his reflection in the mirror before him. 

He was so unsure of himself, which was, quite frankly, abnormal. He’d been wondering whether a shirt and tie was too formal for a first (technically second, or maybe third?) date for about twenty minutes, constantly cycling between taking it off and putting it back on again. 

Problem was, Phil didn’t know New York. Other than the typical touristy hot-spots he’d visited as a kid, and again with Maria these past few weeks, he was mostly clueless, and therefore unsure as to what kind of place - or places - Melinda had in mind when she’d suggested they go out for drinks.

He had - admittedly - been a little taken aback when she’d invited him out two days earlier, seeing as he’d vanished from their budding relationship several months ago with no warning or excuse. He thought he had destroyed their ties, and any chance they could have had to get to know each other properly. Even just as friends. But she’d seemed to accept his apologies, understanding that heart surgery hadn’t been in his plans for the year, and they’d moved past it. 

He’d come round to the idea of a night out with her very quickly. 

Phil had spent the previous day running through potential scenarios in his head. 

It was just drinks. They were only going for drinks.

A couple of drinks at a local bar or two. They would have the chance to try and get to know each other a little better, now that they could actually sit and talk in person as opposed to just over text or in brief snapshots together. 

It was fine.

Except Phil was nervous. A lot more nervous than he’d thought he would be.

He rubbed his sweaty palms against his trousers, before heading to the en-suite in his hotel room, spritzing some cologne against his skin. 

He’d dated many women in the past - heck, he’d even been engaged once long ago - so it wasn’t that he lacked experience in this kind of area. If anything, the opposite. But for some reason, Melinda May made him nervous. 

He wanted this to go well. 

It wasn’t that she scared him, or that he felt intimidated by her. Nothing of the sort. It was mostly the fact that he knew it already - he liked her. He liked her an awful lot more than he’d originally been intending or realising. 

Even after she’d boarded the plane back in December, and left him with a brush of her lips against his unshaven cheek, he’d watched her walk away, and Phil had wanted to follow her. He’d wanted to go through that gate with her and get onto her plane and carry on their conversation, keep getting to know this seemingly wonderful woman, spend more time together.

Texting over the following couple of weeks had been great, little messages of “how are you?” and “what are you doing this weekend?”. It wasn’t proper conversation, but it just deepened his desire to call, to book a flight to go and see her. 

He hadn’t wanted to seem desperate, hadn’t wanted her to think this random guy she’d only met one time at an airport when she had nothing else to do was suddenly trying to follow her across the country. So he’d pushed back those thoughts and carried on as usual, texting her occasionally and working almost harder than before.

Then he’d had his heart attack. 

It had been out of the blue, and it had almost killed him; in fact the doctors who had operated confessed later on that his heart had in fact stopped for several minutes - it had been a miracle he was still alive. Experimental treatment had been applied, something only just going into the human testing phase, and he’d had little say in the matter. But it had worked, and weeks later Phil had begun the long road back to recovery. 

Several weeks into his hospital stay, when he was spending more time conscious than asleep, he realised that somewhere along the way, he’d lost his phone. The nurses didn’t have it, and it hadn’t been with his possessions when he’d been brought in via ambulance. All he could think was that it must be fallen from his pocket at some point and not picked up.

At first, that didn’t bother him so much; he’d been able to tell the team the names of his mother and sister before he was placed into an induced coma, and as next of kin they’d gotten to the hospital fast. They had stayed by his side for weeks, and when he was a little stronger, Maria had brought Leo and Jemma out to visit. 

It was only a few days later however, when he was lying in the ward, wondering what Melinda was doing at that time, that he realised she would have no idea where he had gone. They’d been discussing a night out he was attending for work, and he’d told her with a winking emoji he would have preferred a night out with her instead. 

He’d been smiling like an idiot at her response when he’d felt the crippling pain in his chest, and he vaguely remembered falling to the floor. He’d never got the chance to reply, or indeed organise some time for them to go out.

So this was it.

He took the tie off again, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. It was just drinks. Nothing overly fancy. 

 

\---

 

After exchanging numbers in the park - again - the previous afternoon, Melinda had sent him a message, asking if he was okay meeting at Lola’s Bar on 5th Avenue, at around 9pm. He’d agreed readily, telling her he was happy to go wherever she wanted. 

Truth was, he would probably have been willing to go to a backstreet, unknown fast food place if it meant he could spend more time with her.

Ever since their meeting nine months earlier, Phil had been unable to get her out of his head. They’d spoken for a mere couple of hours, and as soon as she’d walked through the gate and boarded her flight, he’d wanted to talk to her again. Wanted to hear her voice and continue their conversation. Wanted her to kiss his cheek once more, to feel the softness of her lips against his jaw.

It was ridiculous, really. He was a forty-something man with - in his opinion - very little to offer somebody at this stage in life, and she was... well, she was gorgeous. 

Probably way out of his league, as the young people would say. 

He wandered out of the subway station, checking the road signs to help find his bearings, before heading down the street, passing a wide collection of restaurants and shops, each welcoming him inside with flashy goods and glowing lights.

He located Lola’s bar quite easily really, a lot easier than he’d expected, and he walked inside,  past the doormen,who both glanced him up and down with a nod - he was glad he’d removed the tie..

It seemed from first impressions to be a modern bar, but with a 60’s twist. 

Accompanying the solid wooden floor and the deep mahogany tables, there were large maroon leather armchairs, plush and inviting to those with weary legs. The walls were cream, decorated with framed images from the era - a photograph of John F Kennedy; a still from La Dolce Vita; a red Chevrolet Corvette.

He smiled at the image of the car - it was a classic, and he was a bit of a sentimentalist.  

Through the crowds Phil moved, glancing over shoulders of businessmen and party goers, those who had come in for an after-work drink and those on their third. It was a lively atmosphere, with a hubbub of noise all around. 

He spotted Melinda over by the bar area, sitting on one of the stools that lined its edge, one bare leg crossed elegantly over the other. 

Phil swallowed.

She turned in her seat, almost as though she could sense him watching - no, staring - at her, and smiled, rising off the stool in greeting.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” he replied, walking over, staring with wonder as he came to a stop beside her. “You look… amazing.”

Her little black dress rode up her thighs, and she had silver heels on that could easily take someone’s eye out.

Having thought she was beautiful just in jeans and a leather jacket, Phil was almost mesmerised by her now; he couldn’t take his eyes away from the deep red of her lips. 

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, lingering slightly longer to breathe in the scent of her perfume. 

She gave what he was sure was a slight smirk, before thanking him. 

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, forcing himself to look into her eyes, and gesturing to her almost empty tumbler on the bar before her. 

She shook her head.

“Not this time,” Melinda replied, seating herself back onto the stool and pushing her empty glass across the bar. “This one's on me.”

“No I -”

“This is my turn, Phil” she replied with a firm tone that set his heart racing, and he nodded with acceptance and a smile. He took the spare stool to her left, his arm leaning against hers.

“Okay, thanks.”

“What can I get you?” she asked, gesturing at the bottles lined up behind the bar. Coloured liquids glittered through the glass of their containers, and Phil scanned their contents and labels briefly. 

“I’ll have a beer,” he answered, nodding towards the fridge filled with rows of glass bottles. 

“Glass or bottle?”

“Both.”

“Two beers,” she requested to the barman, who was eyeing her up and down in a way that made Phil almost a little protective. And proud.

She was here with him. Out of all the men in the world, she’d asked  _ him  _ out for drinks.

 

\---

 

An hour later, and they’d moved from their bar stools into a small booth to one side of the room. It had smooth leather seats, little brass studs decorating the rims. A small candle was burning in a lantern jar to one side of the table, giving off a soft orange glow.

Melinda had been asking Phil what made him go into teaching - and more specifically history teaching - seeing as he’d chosen the career from a young age. He’d been talking for a while about his family. 

“Really it was my dad who got me into history,” he explained, leaning back against the leather booth and sipping from his third beer. He tapped the rim of the bottle against his lip. “He loved it, was a teacher himself at a local college. The house was always full of various collectables and historical artifacts. As a kid, I found it fascinating.”

“Sounds like you were close.”

He sighed, a sad smile on his face. “Yes. We were, especially when I was old enough to understand and learn what a lot of things were and the history behind them.”

Melinda nodded. 

“He died when I was nine. It affected both Maria and myself in different ways. She was only one, so she didn’t understand what was happening. She just kept asking for him and wondering why everybody was crying all the time. I was old enough to know what death was, and I escaped into comic books and fantasy worlds.”

“Because it was better than your reality.”

“Yeah, at the time… but they taught me some pretty great life lessons.” He perked up a bit. “I mean who wouldn’t look up to Captain America?” he asked, staring back at her with such a look of excitement shining in his eyes she swore she could feel her heart melt slightly

“I knew there was a little bit of dork in there,” she teased gently, a smile on her face.

He grinned back, shrugging his shoulders.. 

“Of course.”

“And he was your favourite?” Melinda asked, already knowing the answer. “Cap?”

“Yeah” he confessed, a dopey grin on his face. “As a kid he became my ultimate hero - good guy wanting to do the right thing, despite all that went on.”

“He sounds admirable,” she nodded, finishing the last of her drink and placing the bottle back onto the table.

“I know, it’s kind of nerdy thing to do, especially for someone of my age…”

After all his previous excitement, he suddenly almost looked a little nervous or embarrassed. She reached a hand out across the table, stroking the top of his with her soft, slender fingers.

“I disagree.” She shrugged, a small smile lingering on her lips. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

He watched her fingers lightly caressing his hand, before he looked up, staring into her eyes. 

“And what is your hobby, Melinda May?” he asked, turning his hand over, tracing circles onto her palm with calloused fingers.

She paused, glancing at their hands, before linking their fingers together.

“I can kick the ass of anybody who wrongs someone I love.”

Phil smiled, loving this side of her; he was starting to get glimpses of the real Melinda. He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against her skin.

“And I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

 

\---

 

“You’re finding it weird.”

He laughed at her statement - was he that obvious? They’d been talking about why Melinda had moved to New York, and she’d told him a little about Skye and Antoine, and baby Elise. He’d listened thoughtfully, confliction in his mind,  wondering partly how the woman in front of him was old enough to be a grandmother, and partly how he’d got into his forties and experienced none of the familial events she had; marriage, children, divorce, grandchildren. 

“Maybe a little bit,” Phil admitted, shrugging his shoulders and draining the last of his drink - this was his fourth… or was it his fifth? “It just makes me think about what I’ve missed out on.”

She studied him for a moment. “Having a child isn’t everything.”

“No,” he agreed, placing the now empty bottle back onto the table before him. “It isn’t. But I think it is a lot, especially when it’s something you always wanted, but never managed to have.”

She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, thinking her next words through.

“And is that something you would still want?”

Melinda glanced up to meet his gaze. He could see the question swirling in them, and what he considered might be concern.

“I always thought I would,” he admitted, studying her carefully, watching his words. “If I met the right person.” 

She nodded.

“But,” he continued, seeing the slight fall in her facial expression, no matter how hard she might have tried to conceal it. “For the right person, and the right life, I could compromise.”

She raised an eyebrow. 

“I think I need a stronger drink.”

 

\---

 

Two additional glasses of caramel coloured liquor later - they’d ended up on a very expensive but excellent scotch - and Phil was filled with a comfortable, drowsy kind of warmth. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Neither could Melinda, and it made Phil smile even more to see her so obviously relaxed and happy.

She was beautiful, that much was obvious. But she was also kind, caring, and genuinely fun to be with. Sure, she was quiet, but not in a bad way; when she spoke, each word was filled with purpose. Maybe it was the excessive alcohol consumption (although he highly doubted that) but Phil knew one-hundred percent that he didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. 

He wanted more. 

“Melinda would you like to come for dinner with me, tomorrow night?”

She smiled over the top of her glass.

“Yes.”

 

\---

  
“I hate high heels.”

They had walked back to her apartment, and Phil being a gentleman, he’d insisted he walk her to her door. He was getting the feeling she could probably kick the ass of anybody who tried anything funny, but he was walking her back all the same.

“Really?” he asked, as they came to a stop in front of a door - he assumed hers. “Why wear them then?”

“Because Skye insisted the dress didn’t quite suit leather boots.”

“Hey you don’t have to wear them on my behalf.”

“I’d also be tiny.”

“Really?”

She grinned, and reached out with her left hand, steadying herself against him as she pulled the shoes off with her right. She dropped them both onto the floor outside her door, the soles clattering onto the solid floor.

Right before his eyes, she dropped down several inches, her head coming just level with his shoulders.

“Really.”

“Wow.” He chuckled to himself, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside them. 

She laughed with him, before the sound died away.

“I had a great time tonight,” he admitted, giving her a small smile.

She nodded silently.

Phil could feel the atmosphere around them change.

She leaned up onto tiptoes, pressing a kiss against his cheek. It reminded him of the first time, back in the airport, only this time he was filled with anticipation.

This time he didn’t want her to stop.

He turned his head a little, facing her, and she paused instead of dropping back to flat feet.  He watched as she hesitated a little, before tilting her face up towards his, fluttering her eyelids closed.

Phil leaned down to meet her. 

Her lips brushed his lightly, almost tentatively, and Phil realised he could smell the sweetness of the whisky they’d shared a half hour before. He pressed his own against hers, a little more force than she had, and he felt as her fingertips came to rest against his stomach, curling into the fabric of his shirt. 

Phil had kissed a few women in his time, but none had felt like this. Nothing could compare to how right it felt, how much he wanted to stay here, to not board that plane in three days time, and to just kiss her forever.

He wanted to stay with her all night.

But Phil was a gentleman, and it was their first date. 

He savoured every second, before gently pulling away, breaking off the kiss. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, and he felt her rest her forehead against his chin. She exhaled shakily, and he smiled against her skin.

“Goodnight Melinda.”

“Goodnight Phil.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to elle_you_oh for actively encouraging me to write this... you da best!

At five minutes to eight, Phil arrived at Melinda’s front door - he always liked to be early, felt it gave a much better impression than being late. Plus he had been so nervously excited for the evening he’d been ready far earlier than required anyway. 

The last half hour had been spent pacing his hotel room, occasionally checking his reflection out in the hotel mirror above the dresser. He wasn’t a vain guy, had never been one to preen and perfect his appearance each time he left the house. But he wanted to make a good impression tonight, wanted to be smart and look the part. 

He smoothed his tie down once more.

This time he was wearing one. 

They were going to a fancy Italian restaurant - he’d spent several hours researching the perfect location, and then kept everything crossed they had a spare table. She had let him pick a location, seeing as he’d invited her, and Phil was desperately hoping everything about the night would be a success.

He reached out, taking a deep breath before knocking, his knuckles rapping against the solid wood.

He could hear the sound of heels tapping across a hard floor, followed by the sliding of a chain and then the front door opened, and he came face to face with Melinda. She looked stunning - even more beautiful than the night before, which he hadn’t thought possible - and was wearing a knee-length red dress which clung in all the right places, fitting her perfectly. He had to force himself to look back up at her face.

“Hello,” he greeted, smiling at how beautiful she looked before him. 

“Hey.” She replied with a smile of her own, comprised of deep red stained lips and perfect teeth. “Ready to go?”

He nodded, not sure where his tongue had vanished to. She followed him out into the hallway, closing the door behind her, and locking it. 

They walked side by side down the corridor, Phil reaching out to take her hand, linking their fingers together. He paused whilst she pressed the button for the lift. 

“How has your day been?” she asked, as the beep sounded and the doors opened to an empty elevator. 

“Good,” Phil replied, following her inside, seeing their reflection in the mirrored walls around them. “Although I feel like I’ve been waiting around for hours.”

She turned to face him as the doors closed behind them, a slight smirk lingering on her lips. 

“So do I.”

Phil swallowed.

 

\---

 

Four hours later, and they were stood outside of the restaurant, the night sky above them flickering with stars. 

The meal had been amazing; Phil’s filet mignon was cooked to perfection, and the Haig they shared afterwards had topped off a wonderful evening, their heads both a little fuzzy, warmth spreading through their bodies, protecting them from the Fall chill that was whipping through the air around them. 

“Tonight was fun,” Phil said, stroking his thumb against the palm of her hand. 

“It was.”

“So,” he continued, as they walked slowly along the street from the restaurant, hands linked. He didn’t want the evening to end. “Where do we go from here?”

They stopped again, and Melinda stared at him, contemplating the next thing to say. She knew where she wanted this to go, knew exactly how she wanted him that evening.

Phil licked his lips absently, and she stared at the way his tongue darted out of his mouth.

The air around them crackled.

Melinda leaned up, kissing his cheek gently, letting her lips linger on his skin for a moment longer than needed, before stepping back down again, the promise of so much more in her gaze.

Phil reached an arm out sideways, heart pounding, not breaking eye contact with her. He knew exactly what that look meant, and he wasn’t going to argue.. 

They didn’t need words. 

He flagged down an upcoming yellow cab, which pulled up on the kerb alongside them both, and Phil opened the door to allow her to climb inside first.

“Evening guys, name’s Mack,” the driver announced, watching them clamber in through his rear-view mirror. 

“Evening Mack,” Phil replied, closing the door behind him, and shuffling over, sitting next to Melinda in the back seat. Their legs were pressed together, and she instantly tilted her body towards his slightly, resting a hand on his leg.

“Where to boss?” the cabbie asked, restarting the engine and setting the meter.

Phil looked at Melinda.

She gave her address with only a moment's hesitation, and he swallowed, knowing for sure what this meant. The driver nodded, before setting off, heading down the street and off towards her apartment.

Melinda leaned her head against Phil’s shoulder, her hand coming up to grip the fabric of his shirt beneath his tie. He pressed a kiss against the top of her head, and then another on her forehead.

She tilted her head up towards him, and he pressed a third kiss against her lips. Phil brought a hand up to cup her cheek, letting it fall back and into her hair. He gently brushed his fingers through the loose strands, feeling the silk against his skin, and kissed her deeper, opening his mouth a little more, letting them explore each other like young lovers.

She tugged him closer, and Phil felt a pop that could only mean one of his buttons had either come undone or come off. He broke away, looking at the mischievous smirk on her face as she traced her fingertips against the skin of his abdomen, and he shook his head, a smile forming on his face.

“Whilst I appreciate the romantic thralls of date night and all,” Mack announced in a dry tone, the two of them jumping and glancing over to him through the centre of the car; admittedly, they’d forgotten they were not technically alone. “If you make a mess of the back of my cab, I’m gonna charge you for reupholstery.” 

Melinda snorted, nuzzling against Phil’s shoulder.

Their hands remained linked until they arrived at her building. 

 

\---

 

Unlike the previous evening, when they arrived at her front door this time, Phil didn’t kiss her and bid her goodnight, like a gentleman. 

This time they both knew what they wanted. 

He took another step forward, and Melinda found herself up against the door behind her, the wood cool where it touched her skin. Phil reached out, caressing her cheek gently, before tucking her hair behind her ear. He watched her pupils dilate as she gazed up at him. 

He glanced down at her red-stained lips; her makeup was smudged a little from their previous session in the taxi. She had them parted slightly, and he flicked his tongue out to wet his own.

Phil couldn’t believe how much he wanted her. How much he wanted to kiss her again, to pin her against the wall behind them by her wrists and trail his lips down her neck, to take her to bed and make love to her on top of crisp cotton sheets. 

The thoughts surprised even himself; it had been a couple of years since he’d dated anybody, even longer since he’d been in a relationship. But here he was, with someone he’d met only 4 times, and he was totally and utterly under her spell.

He hesitated for only a second, before leaning down, bringing his lips to her own.

As they met, he felt her rise up, her hands coming to rest against his torso. 

He ran his hands through her hair, letting one trail through the soft waves, the other gently pulling her head closer to his, deepening their kiss, drinking in her sweetness like a butterfly would nectar. 

She fumbled at the lock behind her, cursing into his mouth as the key wouldn’t work, before she finally got it open, pulling him into her apartment. 

Phil kicked the door closed behind them.

Melinda reached up, tugging at the knot of his tie, undoing the fabric and discarding it carelessly over her shoulder onto the worktop behind her. 

They both removed his jacket.

She kissed him again, and brought her hands to his shirt once more, working her way down the buttons nimbly.

Phil hesitated suddenly, his hands coming up to clasp hers. She paused, breaking the kiss and glancing up at him with a quizzical expression.

“If you don’t want this -”

He shook his head. That wasn’t it. He did, more than anything else right now. But he still hesitated.

“I haven’t… been with anybody since…” he trailed off, and she knew instantly he meant since his surgery.

Melinda gently removed one of her hands from his, bringing it down to rest against his heart.

“We can take this slowly, if you want.”

He met her gaze. He highly doubted either of them would be able to take this slowly. 

Phil took a deep breath. “Nobody has ever seen my scar.”

Melinda nodded, realising through his admittance that his hesitance was not regret; it was self-consciousness. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this then?” she asked, not wanting to push him if he wasn’t ready. 

Phil paused, before leaning down to kiss her again, this time gently, slowly. He poured his feelings into the meeting of their lips. After a moment, he brought her hands up to his chest, encouraging her to slowly begin unbuttoning his shirt again. 

This time he didn’t stop her. 

When she reached the last button, and she tugged his shirt out of his pants, letting it fall open, she broke their kiss, leaning her head against his chin.

He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was looking at the scar travelling up his sternum. 

Phil swallowed, feeling slightly anxious as to what thoughts would be running through her head, whether she would change her mind and walk away, not wanting to be with somebody broken and put back together again.

But she didn’t, instead, she pressed her hand against his heart. 

“This doesn’t define you,” she murmured, tilting her head back up to face him. “But going through a trauma like that? It changes you… it’s a part of who you are. It always will be.”

He gazed at her for a moment, soaking in her words - probably one of the longest sentences he’d heard her say - before he nodded. Phil brought his arms back up, wrapping his hands around her waist and tugging her closer, lowering his lips back to hers.

She responded in turn, reaching up to brush his shirt off his shoulders, letting the fabric pool on the ground beneath them as he briefly removed his hands to let the sleeves fall.. 

Melinda kicked off her heels, the stilettos clattering on the wooden flooring, before running her hands back up his chest, feeling the ridge of the scar that spanned his torso. 

It reminded her of the fragility of life.

She linked her wrists behind his neck, pulling his lips closer to hers. Her teeth brushed against his lips as they kissed, and he let out an involuntary moan, one that sent heat rushing to the pit of her stomach. 

It had been too long since she’d last felt like this. Too long since she had last wanted somebody as much as she did in this minute. 

Phil traced the skin on her upper arms, lazy circles that drove her insane, before reaching around to her back, and slowly, teasingly, unzipping her dress. When it was totally undone, she shrugged her shoulders, letting the fabric slide down her body, joining his shirt on the floorboards below. 

“Wow.” 

Phil couldn’t help the word escaping his lips, as he looked at the woman before him, deep red satin lingerie adorning her toned body. Despite being in her late forties, she looked incredible, and he could see exactly why she kept up her fitness regime so well. 

He’d have to work on his own at some point, if he wanted to keep up.

He sucked his stomach in a little, and Melinda laughed gently, stepping out of her dress and leaning back up onto tiptoes to bring their lips together once more. She tugged on his belt-loops, pulling their hips flush together, and Phil groaned. 

He was hard, ready for her already, and she could clearly feel his eagerness. She bucked her hips against his, just to torment him a little. 

“Melinda,” he gasped, fingers digging into her waist as he tried to breathe properly and remain in control of his body. She simply smirked at him before stepping away, linking her right hand in his left, and leading him across the apartment towards her bedroom. 

Phil didn’t pay much attention to the room itself when they entered; all he registered was the glow of streetlights pouring through the slats of the blinds against the window, leaving stripes of shadow across the sheets on her bed, before she had pushed him gently backwards. The back of his legs hit her mattress, and he sat down, tugging her with him. 

Melinda lowered herself into his lap, moving her hips against his in a way that drove both of them mad with desire. He growled a little, unclasping her bra and discarding it onto the floor, before leaning forwards, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

She moaned, the sound vibrating against Phil as he worked, and he smiled, one hand playing with her other breast, the other stroking against her upper thigh.

Melinda reached down between them, her usually steady hands shaking as she unfastened his belt. It didn’t help that every time she got close to undoing it, Phil sucked a little harder, or grazed his teeth over her, and she lost concentration completely. 

She finally got it undone, and as she began to work on the button of his trousers, Phil slipped the hand from her thigh to between her legs, stroking her gently and relishing the wetness he found there even through her underwear.

Melinda gasped as he bypassed the silk she wore, letting his fingers explore her, working her until she came undone around him, breathless and shaky. 

She pushed him down against the mattress once he was finished, rising off him slightly to help remove both his trousers and underwear. They both tugged away her own, two pairs of fumbling hands desperate to come together.

He watched as she glanced down at him with eyes filled with lust, before she shuffled across the bed, pulling open the bedside table drawer, and bringing a foil packet out with her.

Phil sat up as she returned to him, pressing his lips back against hers, urgently, desperately. 

Fingers fumbled around latex, securing their protection, before Phil tugged at her by the thighs, letting her drop backwards onto the bed in front of him. He took only a moment to admire her before him, naked and beautiful, hair splayed out across the pillow like a fan of silk, before he moved on top of her, spreading her legs out wider, and pushing inside of her. 

They both gasped, pausing for a moment to adjust.

They stared into each other's eyes as Phil slowly began to move within her. 

He picked up a rhythm quickly, rolling his hips against her own, their hands linked, pressing her into the mattress, half hoping the neighbours couldn’t hear her moaning below him, and half not caring at all. 

They moved together, getting closer and closer to the edge, hurried kisses and gasps of pleasure encompassing both of them, before at last they fell, over the precipice, and into the oblivion of passion below.

Phil could see stars.

 

\---

 

“You fly tomorrow?” she asked, as they lay side by side some time later. The sound of cars far below drifted through the open window, and moonlight shone through the blinds. 

Phil sighed, rolling over to face her. 

“Tomorrow night,” he confirmed.

She nodded, swallowing as she thought it through. After everything, he was still going to leave. He had to, as he’d explained during their meal; he was a teacher, he had a job and a contract and a class waiting for him, and he couldn’t just not get onto the flight. She understood - she was a reasonable person after all - but it didn’t make it any easier.

Melinda leaned forwards, pressing her lips against his own.

“Then we should make the most of tonight.”

Phil grinned, and flipped her underneath him once more. 


End file.
